


Maxie and the East End Truce (follow-up to Garrison's Court Martial - TV episode 'Death Sentence')

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-15 10:33:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14788868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Once, Craig Garrison would have told you, with firm conviction, that the more knowledge, the more information you have, the better off you were, the more comfortable you could be.  This war was changing his opinion somewhat, especially since he started leading this odd assortment of men.  Now, it seemed like some new piece of information made itself known to him almost daily, and more and more that information was taking him well outside of his comfort zone.  In fact, he now thought it would take him several hours, by plane, to get anywhere within SIGHT of his comfort zone again!





	1. Just When We Were Having Such A Good Time!

**Author's Note:**

> Please note some of the stories take place over a span of time, some shorter, some longer. Inevitably this leads to a spoiler here and there, or causing another story to occur within those time spans. (Just as 'A Neat and Tidy Affair' takes place (in time, anyway) between Chapter One and Chapter Two of THIS story.). I'm keeping as much to the time line and continuity as feasible, so just keep your mind flexible and try to sit back and enjoy despite any apparent flaws.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, they'd known ripping off that card game would probably lead to trouble sooner or later, but what the hell, when the Warden had been courtmartialed, they'd needed the money. Wasn't like they could just give it back, even if they'd considered such a dumb idea. Still, it seemed a damned shame, Maxie ruining their little bit of R&R in order to fit Goniff with a pair of cement boots! And, somehow from the look on the East End boss's snarling face, they doubted he intended to stop there.

Finally, after just too damned long, freedom! Well, sort of. A two-day pass, anyway! Better yet, a two-day pass in London with accommodations included! Through some best-unmentioned intervention, those accommodations were even rather nice; perhaps not up to Actor's standards, but then very few would have been. After all, nice though it was, Hotel Marchant just wasn't Claridges! Of course, though Actor would never have admitted it, with the war and all, even Claridges wasn't really Claridges anymore!

And best of all, at least in Goniff's eyes, Meghada was going to be in London at the same time attending meetings and a couple of social events she'd been pressured into attending, and promised to treat them all to a really nice lunch at this little restaurant with "really great food! Marcel, the chef, is an old friend and a true wizard in the kitchen!"; while that sounded great and all, Casino and the others teased Goniff that her being in the area would really cut down on the cheeky little Englishman's action, but somehow that sly grin told them he really didn't think that was the case.

"Oh, I dunno, mates; think I'll do just fine." Casino had just shrugged, knowing the redhead's fiery temper and her, to Casino's mind, extremely odd attraction to and affection for their teammate, {"she catches him getting himself some of that 'action', well, it's his funeral!"}

It'd finally dawned on him, little things like that stupid song that lost him that stupid bet, that totally out-of-character, way over the top kiss at the pub, that mis-buttoned dress and their laughter when he'd barged in at the Cottage that day, it all coming together into a strong suspicion. He cautiously mentioned something to Chief and had gotten an actual smile from the usually taciturn man, "Casino, you just now figuring out they're sleepin together? Man, gotta open your eyes and take a look around once in awhile. Who knows what else you're missin?" Casino didn't know if Actor knew; he was pretty sure the Warden didn't, figured he'd blow his stack once he found out. And if that fancy-pants Major Richards ever found out, shit!!!

He figured she wouldn't try to shut the little Cockney down, well, not like she really could with as much as they were apart with all the missions and such. And he just couldn't believe it was anything really serious anyway, not on either side, odd but not serious; but he also figured she wouldn't be too pleased to have it all happen right under her nose either. Anyway, that was Goniff's problem, not theirs.

More likely to be cramping their style was the fact that the Warden was scheduled to be in London, along with the Sergeant Major, so they were having to alter their more exuberant plans that might draw unwelcome attention.

They figured out what that sly grin from their teammate had meant that first morning when Actor and Casino went to rouse Goniff and Chief, who were sharing the room next door. Chief was there, alright, already awake, getting dressed, but just gave a little grin of his own when they inquired about Goniff's whereabouts and jerked his head to the right.

"Right 'ere, mates! Lovely spring morning, aint it?? Nice warm fog rolling in and all!" Actor and Casino stared as their teammate bounced in from a secondary door, them now realizing for the first time that this room and the next were connecting rooms. Well, theirs had been too, but that door had been locked, though they'd unlocked it once they got settled in, just from force of habit.

Goniff looked in exceptionally fine spirits, particularly for one who'd come out the loser in the poker game the night before and had decided he'd call it quits and left alone well before the other three called it a night, each of them with a lovely lady on their arm.

Casino dared a glance through that open door, and the crumpled bed and the naked female form in the bed, covered, well, at least somewhat, by that dangling sheet, told why their pickpocket was so chirpy. Part of Casino's mind abstractly noted that that rather lush figure she'd seemed to have during her nightclub stint had NOT been artifically enhanced; that had always puzzled him, since in her usual clothes she seemed, well, less bountiful, though her usual home attire was much less form fitting than that emerald green dress had been, and her working clothes, well, he remembered that rig she wore to fool Sampson, the one that bound her top down. All of those forms of attire were certainly more concealing than that sliding sheet! What he was seeing now would've made his mouth water, well, if it hadn't been the Dragon; still, he did appreciate the view.

He did spare a moment to laugh to himself at the comment he'd made to Goniff in the car leaving that nightclub, "I know you do second story work, but I think that second story is a little outta your league." {"Well, maybe it's not after all!!"} His amused respect for his slender team mate rose more than a little bit, even as did his bewilderment at what she saw in the wiry Englishman.

She moved in a sleepy stretch and the sheet slid even further, seeming intent on hitting the floor in its entirety. Before that happened, a warm voice drawled out from beneath that exuberant mass of red hair, "close that door, will you, laddie? There's either a draft or Casino is hyperventilating," and Goniff chirped, "sure thing, 'Gaida. See you later?" as he pulled it closed just as that sheet slithered off the side of the bed, much to Casino's disappointment. Casino dared a fast glance at Chief and Actor; predictably, Chief was blushing and Actor was trying to look aloof, though not managing it quite as smoothly as usual.

"Oh, aye, I've a meeting this morning at HQ, lucky me, but will be back by Noon. Lunch? At Manelli's? The guys too if they want; my treat, just like I promised. We can meet here and go over together."

"Alright!! But w'at about breakfast?" getting a faint laugh through the door.

"You and the guys are on your own for that; Room Service is quite good here; try not to break the budget on just the one meal, laddie. I'd warn you about spoiling your appetite for lunch, but I know you too well for that! I'll get coffee on the way. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, or failing that, don't get caught. You know how the Lieutenant gets!"

They ordered breakfast up and Goniff was ecstatic at the choices; the guys just shook their heads at him puzzling and debating over what he wanted, and then had to dissuade him from ordering the equivalent of three breakfasts. They ate while discussing their plans for the day and the coming evening.

Then Chief distracted them by flatly demanding, "next time, someone else shares a room with him, at least if Meghada's around."

Actor raised his brows, "I should think you would have enjoyed the privacy; it would seem as if you had the room to yourself."

That got him an exceedingly dry look, "privacy, yeah; that dont mean I got any sleep. Quiet they aint!" And all three heads turned to Goniff, who was still working steadily through his meal.

He looked up as he felt their gaze, "w'at?" His pale blue eyes were innocent as a four year olds; whether he had heard that little discussion or not was anyone's guess, but from that little twinkle, they rather thought he had.

{"So much for cutting down on his action,"} Actor thought with an inner laugh.

The lunch was, as promised, excellent, even Goniff being well satisfied. They headed out in separate directions, Meghada to order in supplies, check with some of her contacts, pick up her dress for the evening, get a substitute for her favorite knife she'd somehow misplaced in a manner she preferred not to discuss; the guys had a few odds and end of their own to take care of, of course, one or two of them quite lucrative.

They made a stop at Goniff's favorite fence, just to touch base and get introductions; if they were rather taken aback by the huge black man, well, Alphonse was rather taken aback by them as well. He thought to himself as they left, that the little thief was making some very unusual friends, remembering the entertaining redhead who'd come to bargain on Goniff's behalf some time earlier.

Back to the hotel in time to meet up for a late tea, then Meghada and Goniff disappearing again, this time getting eye-rolls from all three of his team mates. Chief had elected to spend his time with the others having a beer, deciding he couldn't really handle another performance like last night's, especially when there was no lovely around to help him deal with the side effects. Actor had teased him when he'd stated that out loud, only to get a solemn shake of the head, "you just don't have any idea. Just wait til it's your turn!"

Goniff came down those stairs with a lazy, even sated gleam in his blue eyes, "so, w'at's on for tonight? 'Gaida's off playing with the aristocracy again, and about as 'appy about it as usual. Coo, you should see 'er dress! Don't know 'ow Coura does it! I mean, everything's covered, but aint nothing 'idden, if you know w'at I mean! 'Ave them toffs embarrassing themselves, she will!" Remembering that eye-opening glimpse earlier in the day, the guys thought that just might be the case, though they'd rarely seen her in that mode other than that time in the German nightclub when she was wearing that snug-fitting green dress. They had one last beer and headed out for a tidy little poker game they had heard about, talking about their plans for their final day of leave.

They'd all poured into Actor and Casino's room from their poker game, laughing, slapping each other on the back, pleased enough with the results. They were less than pleased to find the room already occupied by one Maxie, East End semi-big shot and five of his thugs, all armed with assorted weaponry. Being taken off guard, outnumbered and with no weapons of their own except for Chief's knife, there was no immediate choice but to surrender to Maxie's demands to empty their pockets of their winnings.

"I aint gonna forget this, Maxie," Goniff snarled, with the others growling their agreement, with Maxie only replying, "told you last time, Goniff, I'd see you again. See you in cement boots, I believe I said; got a pair just your size awaitin down below," and gave a nasty grin. The team took a quick look at the thugs, then at each other, and gathered themselves for a rush, though their odds were distinctly poor.

"Oh, Maxie, he wouldn't look at all good in cement boots! Why, they wouldn't suit him in the least!" a chiding female voice broke in, and everyone's heads turned quickly to the redhead lounging in the doorway, revolver in her hand, knife sheath on each forearm.

Actor spared a thought to how well the weaponry actually went with that long bronze evening dress, the wide straps over her shoulders gathered and bound with bronze metal clasps accentuating the brown leather and bronze fittings of the sheaths on her bare arms. The heavy bronze rings on her fingers were joined by slender bronze links of chain, and when he looked at them in the right light, really they were the equivalent of brass knuckles, especially with the bronze chains connecting the rings to those wide bracelets. Barbaric, of course, but rather stunning nevertheless. The smile on her face was a blend of sincerity, amusement, and lethal intent.

Maxie got out a quick, "YOU!! What the bloody 'ell??! This aint none a your mixup!"

The thugs started to raise their weapons, and she merely cocked the revolver as she raised her brows, "more cousins like Joey, Maxie? Thought you'd learned your lesson there," and a quick harsh word from the underground kingpin had his confused men lowering their weapons. Actor and the others started to get up, but a fast word from Meghada stopped them; they were equally confused by her firm stance; it was almost like she wasn't on their side, yet she always had been before.

"Nay, lads, you all stay where you are as well. Chief, I wouldn't mind a drink; is there something close at hand? No, don't get up, just tell me," and at his inclining of his head and a few words, she carefully moved and, never letting her gaze leave the men gathered there, she used her left hand to remove the cap and take a swig. No one was foolish enough to think that mean she wasn't ready and able to handle that revolver should the need arise. She shuddered, "damn, remind me to pick up something a bit smoother tomorrow! I'm surprised; Marchant usually stocks better!"

She settled one hip on the desk and wriggled to get comfortable, the slit in the side of her dress now revealing her stocking clad leg almost up to the top of her thigh, and, Actor just shook his head in disbelief, another knife, this one in a black garter.

"Now, Maxie, lets talk a bit, you and me. And, call back that boy of yours, the one trying to separate out toward the window. It's been peaceable so far, more or less; I'd just as soon keep it that way. I didn't budget for replacing the carpets, you know," and her smile was icy cold.

Maxie flushed, "Dick, told you to stay put; get your bloody arse back where you were!" She waited til Dick did what he was told, him a little bewildered why his initiative wasn't appreciated by his boss.

"In fact, Maxie, if you don't mind, why don't you tell your boys to wait down in the street below, where I can see them from the window. Just to be sure things stay polite, and I know you want that every bit as much as I do." Maxie gave her a sideways look, but then nodded, not as if giving in, but as if he'd had the same thought.

"Louie, you take the others downstairs, over under that light across the street. You wait for me there, and no funny business, or you'll deal with me," he threatened. His men looked at each other, then back at their boss, shrugged and went out. Meghada was sitting on the table next to the window, glanced and saw they were indeed where they should be. She hoped Maxie was smart enough and strong enough not to have others in the area who'd feel free to interfere; that would just spoil her mood something fierce.

"So, I gather YOU kifed the pot on his game a few years back; he returned the favor more recently." Goniff had told her about that little fund-raiser on behalf of Garrison's defense fund. Somehow the guys weren't all that surprised at her ready use of thieves cant.

"Now, here's what's going to happen; we're going to ignore the nastier aspects of this little meeting here tonight, all those unpleasant words, call it just an unfortunate start to a friendly conversation. By the way, that means the money? It gets handed over to me." She waited, then when no one moved, shook her head impatiently, "Maxie, the money gets handed over to me, NOW!"

And with not even a snarl, though certainly with a look of some disgruntlement, he pulled out the pile of notes they'd taken from the guys and dropped them on a side table. She raised her brows at the spread, noting the guys must have done quite well indeed.

"Very nice, Maxie. Now, I have a question. Is this little game of sport you and Goniff seem to be engaged in, is it to be done in sets or in rotation? From your showing up here, it would seem to be rotation, but I wanted to be sure I understood how you intended for it to work."

Maxie just looked at her, "w'at the bloody 'ell are you talking about?" not being surly so much as being genuinely puzzled.

She sighed, "I mean, is it that it started with you, then it was his turn, now it's yours again, and next time will be his again? Or does one turn each mean a new game starts? In which case, I think you went out of turn, Maxie. I mean, you started, he made his play. Now, to be fair, seems like this round would have been HIS turn to make a move first." She looked over at Goniff who was starting to find more than a little amusement in her so thoroughly turning the situation on its head and how her tricksy mind was focusing on such odd parts of it all.

She lifted her brows at him, "Goniff, what say you, lovie? What was your understanding? I don't think you ever told me that part; I think we got," and she gave him a very wicked grin, "distracted about that time."

That extremely blatant little ploy got exceedingly strange looks from everyone in the room, though not all for the same reason. He never got a chance to answer when Maxie sputtered, "LOVIE?? Shite! Ballocks! *@&#&@(!)*".

She waited patiently, a twitch of her lips showing her appreciation for his versatility, though she interrupted before too long. "Maxie, you are starting to repeat yourself. Bad habit, that is."

Maxie was back to fuming, "you and this miserable little . . . You can't be serious", and he was off and running with the invectives, warnings, dire premonitions. Somehow she thought it all sounded terribly familiar.

Her voice was a little more stern, "now, now, Maxie, be nice." She frowned, tilted her head to one side, "You know, Maxie, I don't know that I ever heard your last name. It wouldn't be Richards, now would it?" and in spite of the situation, the guys couldn't hold back their quick burst of laughter.

Maxie cast a puzzled glance at them, huffed at her, his confusion evident, "last name Chalmers, not Richards. Why'd you think that?"

She grinned, "a friend with that name gave me the same lecture, oh, not exactly the same words, of course, he's a university man, St. Andrews I believe, rather stuffy, so he's not nearly so descriptively poetic, but same general idea."

Maxie huffed again, "smart man, I'd say," scowling at Goniff. 

"So, you planning to step in between? That could be dangerous, girlie," he warned. "'ow far you willing to go to 'ide 'im be'ind your skirts? Or is that under your skirts??" with a more than offensive look at Goniff that got him a return snarl from the blond Englishman. She took another swig at that bottle, squirming a little to get more comfortable on that desk rim.

"Maxie, I'm surprised at you. Have you forgotten so soon? You're still a man in your prime; wouldn't think you'd be losing your memory yet. Surely you remember Joey; a little incident over the Fautly jewels? Perhaps you even remember that caravan the Outterling brothers had taken by Frankie V? Tell me, the brothers, they ever replace those four bully boys of theirs?" And if anyone thought her smile before had been cold, it was nothing compared to what was on her face now. Goniff had an oddly thoughtful look on his face now, his eyes blinking rapidly as he remembered a few things about the old days. 

Maxie had been startled when she started, now HE had a seriously worried look on HIS face, but he still protested, "that warn't you, girl; you warn't even around then. Was your big sister w'at took that knife . . ." Then his eyes got big, seeing where she was taking this, "w'at took a knife in the back protecting Newkirk, stepping in between 'im and Joey." His frown was getting deeper, his thinking so hard it apparently hurt, by the pained look on his face.

"The other, never heard even rumors other than Frankie V, though 'e swore it wasn't 'im slit their weasels and dumped them in the river, cept," and his voice slowed and his eyes widened as he remembered the whole messy story, "cept it was Newkirk again, along with those two women from the pub where your sister was staying, it being them the Outterling's four men were threatening, along with them already beating the 'oly shite outta 'im, acourse. You're saying SHE. . . " and her face was stony.

"I'm saying, when those of my family compare me and my older sister, they're always saying how compared to me, she's such a sweet, mild and bidable sort. Have to say they have the right of it; firm enough in her own way, a bit testy at times, of course, but she never did have my temper, my sheer stubborness, my, shall we say, sense of purpose. Now, do you think I'm planning to step in, if necessary? Are you really asking just how far I'd be willing to go to protect ones I've decided are mine? HIM, most certainly, and most obviously, but also the others whom I consider friends; them and others not in this room right now? Really, Maxie? What do you think???" From the look on his face, Maxie WAS thinking, and not really happy about any part of his thoughts.

"And, just so we're clear, not that I'm taking offense this one time, I'm not too keen on being called 'girlie', just so you know. My friends have one or two names for me; others not my friends have been known to call me other things," with a wry knowing grin. The look on Maxie's face said he could easily believe that, and was considering adding a few of his own. "Some, those more, shall we say, in the middle, have sometimes called me Rue; you're free to use that if you wish. I think we'd both be happier with you in that middle category, don't you?"

He took a very deep breath, letting it out from between pursed lips, his battered prize-fighter face showing him thinking this all over carefully. "So, w'at is it you want, Rue?"

She looked back and forth between the four men she considered Family andthe other man, "a truce. No move made against the other without due cause. And by due cause, I means something you can justify to ME, not just to yourself, because it IS to me you'll be justifiying it, make no mistake, me or my family. And that goes for your people too, so don't think to pass the job along or hire it out, or even tip someone a wink of encouragement, and get away with it. Your side makes a move, in any way, at any connection, even at a breath's faintness, as far as I'm concerned, t'was YOU what made the move, you understand?"

Maxie tilted his head, "and say I go along with this truce? W'at 'appens this truce gets broken?"

She shrugged, "you break the truce, Maxie, you won't be so pleased with the outcome. Me and mine won't take it kindly, I assure you, and that never goes well." Maxie didn't much like the vagueness of that; somehow with that look in her eyes it seemed more dangerous than actual threats, things he could imagine worse than whan she might think to actually say.

He jerked his chin toward Goniff, "and if 'e breaks the truce, w'at then?"

Casino just couldn't resist, "he breaks the truce, she cuts him off from tea and scones and hot soup and cuddling and all the rest that goes along with it," that getting a snicker from the team.

"Oh, I'll do more than that, I assure you," she warned, giving the slender Englishman a stern look. In return, she got a remarkably open look, for once the smile and the look in his eyes in accordance with his words, all amused appreciation for her determination.

"That's more than I'm willing to give up, right there. Not such a gormless cock-up as that, luv."

And she smiled at him knowingly, "I should hope not! I'd hate to put it to the test, give up all that cuddling and all the rest, myself, just to prove my point," now with such a wicked grin being shared that Casino found himself groaning right along with Maxie. {"I never WILL understand those two!"}

The crisp knock at the door caused all weapons to magically disappear, though not her blades of course. Her revolver was still in her hand, but her hand now concealed by a fold of her skirt. Garrison in full uniform stuck his head in, stopped, frowned suspiciously at the gathering. He walked in, ready for anything that might happen.

"Something I should know about?" he asked cautiously, his eyes going from one to the other of his team, to the O'Donnell woman perched there so casually, formal evening gown with rather unusual accessories, to the stocky man who from his face was a retired pugilist trying to appear innocent and inconspicuous. He spared a brief glance for that pile of money too.

Actor cleared his throat, "I do not believe so, Lieutenant. Just a quiet chat among casual passersby."

Garrison's lips tightened, and his tone was both suspicious and stern, "Meghada??"

"Just as Actor said, Lieutenant." She looked at Maxie, then at Goniff, "isn't that right, gentlemen? We are in agreement, are we not?" and both men gave nods, and a quick gruff, "yes, Rue, we're in agreement," came from Maxie though he didn't seem overly pleased.

"Acourse, 'Gaida, w'atever you say."

She smiled at Garrison, "see, everything's fine, Lieutenant. Now, Mr. Chalmers has to go; prior appointment, you know. No, no, Mr. Chalmers, that little bit of money is mine, remember?? Yes, I know, just an oversight on your part. Then the rest of us can have a nice little drink and review the day's activities, boring though I know they all must have been. Mine certainly were! I truly think Colonel David is getting senile, you know? and that lovely little group Julie roped me into joining for dinner and dancing, amiable enough but not a brain among them."

Her aimless chattering was such a contrast to her former manner Maxie shook his head, wondering if someone had run in a ringer on him somehow without him noticing.

Goniff frowned, "you didn't say there was going to be dancing, 'Gaida; don't know I fancy that, you waltzing around in some bloke's arms. Nobody tried anything on, did they? Can't trust those ruddy toffs, you know! Though, you do look a treat in that dress. Just 'ow is it fastened on? Can't seem to see . . ."

That got a resounding "GONIFF!" from everyone, as she flicked his wandering fingers away from the metal clasp at the top of her dress strap.

"Later, laddie, later. First, let's let Mr. Chalmers take his leave, and hear the Lieutenant out; then we can go talk about the 'in's and out's' of fashion, ei?"

Mr. Chalmers had the most bewildered look any could have remembered seeing on his rough face as he looked from the slender blond Cockney with the wicked grin to the extremely self-possessed redhead with her matching grin, and then back again. He left shaking his head, and Casino again broke up the team with his, "I know just how he feels! I never will understand you two!" 

They'd laughed about that 'lovie' tag she'd dropped in so easily, since while she often called him 'laddie', she'd never called him anything that sounded quite so, well, so!

"Seemed a good way to quickly get my involvement explained," she said apologetically, and he'd just chuckled and shook his head at the memory of their faces, the team AND Maxie. {"Chiefy actually looked embarrassed!"}

Now he was doing some explaining of his own. "It was a risk, tapping Maxie for the money, sure. Maybe didn't think it through, but we needed it, for the Warden, and there was a score to settle; didn't work out, but, 'Gaida, I'd do it again," he told her earnestly, needing her to understand. Somehow, he thought she would.

"Aye, I know, laddie; I'd have done the same. You play the odds when family, a friend is at stake. Still, it's best if it ends now, before you end up in some alley way or the river. And no, I don't intend to be fighting all your battles for you. You'd not like that, I know, and frankly, I don't know I've the energy or the resources, what with you and the lads' prediliction for trouble." That got a shared laugh. "Just, where I can, where it's really needed . . . I meant it, you wouldn't look at all good in cement boots," and he stroked his hand along her cheek, then down her side.

"I know. Just like I'd like to tell Richards to stop sending you to places where you're fighting off ruddy crocodiles or 'aving to cozy up to some bloody Kraut general. We do w'at we can, luv, and know there's only so much we can do." He pulled her closer into his embrace, "and for the rest, in between times, we try to forget all that." She nodded, and later, after the loving, after he'd fallen asleep, listened to him breathing soft and easy, knowing this, him being so close, made the rest worthwhile. She didn't even bother thinking about 'someday'; for now, this was enough; well, it was all they were sure of having, after all.


	2. "She Don't Seem The Reasonable Sort"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Maxie comes across a prime bit of gossip that could prove the downfall of 'that little weasel Goniff' and the team, he is at first inclined to just sit back and watch the hammer fall. Wasn't like any reasonable sort could blame him, shouldn't affect the truce at all. Then he remembered the eyes of that aggravating 'Miss Rue'; somehow he doubted she was the reasonable sort! When Maudie, an old friend of the young woman reinforces that opinion and weighs in on the subject, "Maxie, she makes 'er sister seem the kind and forgiving type!" the East End thug knows, however much he resents it, he is just going to have to take a hand where he never thought he would!

Craig Garrison stifled a groan as he settled himself back down at his desk; he was unhappily spending his efforts on reports when he should have been out working with the guys; instead, due to his badly cramping back and right leg, courtesy of that last mission, he had turned the men over to a sleepy-eyed Private Jenkins and an uncomfortably eager Private Perkins.

He was more than a little amused, if slightly apprehensive, at the rapidly growing rapport between his group of cons and those two privates, knowing the store of knowledge that was being freely shared was perhaps more than the army intended. He imagined the conversations back home after the war, {"and what did you learn in the army, son?" "Oh, how to case a museum or country house, how to bypass an alarm system on a jewelry case or a safe, how to stack a deck of cards, things like that, dad! Ever so interesting it was too!"}

At this hour he should have been leading that cross-country hike over to Portsmith, not all that far, but ending at the rather elaborate country home of one Gerald Portsmith himself, scion of the founder of the village. Portsmith wanted the newly established service Garrison's crew was providing - evaluation of his security system AND his valuables, in return for giving them some practice in the same. It had started out while Garrison had been away on assignment and Private Jenkins had been in charge at the Mansion - yes, that was a long story and a very odd one! Still, it was working out well, Garrison had to admit, though the evaluation of the valuables was an added wrinkle he wasn't so sure was a good idea, though he did find the spectacle of Actor and Goniff arguing over the merits of a particular piece highly entertaining. He was fairly sure the little pickpocket was just having them on, getting Actor up on the very highest of his high horses, but sometimes, well, sometimes Garrison would catch a glint in those hazy blue eyes that made him wonder.

He also had the feeling any fakes or frauds his guys turned up weren't being reported by the owners to the insurance people as such, seeing as how one or two of such items had been 'stolen' awhile after the evaluation and any mention in the papers had made no mention of them being anything other than valuable pieces of art, the loss being greatly mourned, the insurance companies paying most dearly.

He remembered with a chuckle Actor lecturing him so severely when he'd called them fakes, "among the upper classes, Craig, they are called 'highly accurate period reproductions', never 'fakes' or 'frauds'. The latter implies they have been victimized, taken in, making them feel and look foolish; the former implies a knowing participation in a clever and ever so amusing joke, which makes them seem ever so sophisticated and elite. Quite a different matter, you know. And NEITHER term is EVER used with the authorities or the insurance firms!"

He kept copies of all their reports on these little side-projects, of course, and made sure Constable Miller gave his approval of any projects to weed out any bad characters who might try to blame something on the guys, though there had been only one they'd turned down, taking the diplomatic way out by pleading a conflict in scheduling. But frankly Garrison truly felt he had enough on his plate without trying to micromanage the owners to the extent of what they told their insurance agents, so had decided not to. 

He looked over at the now drained coffee pot, really wanting another cup, even as bad as this batch had been, but not being willing to make that long painful trek to the kitchen. He really should have waited til Sergeant Major Rawlins had reported in, and would have if his day hadn't started at 3am when his aching back and leg hadn't encouraged him to stay in bed, certainly well before Rawlins would poke his head in to wish him a Good Morning. Rawlins made much better coffee than he did, but the only other alternative had been their small cache of tea, which Garrison tried to shy away from, reserving it for their resident pickpocket. It wasn't very good tea either, to hear Goniff tell it, but it was something for when a bit of comfort was called for, and Garrison did enjoy that smile of contentment that came over that mischievious face at that first sip, before he slipped into the anticipated complaining about the quality, which Garrison rather secretly enjoyed as well, that familiar warm rasp somehow having a comforting, almost homey sound to it. Garrison thought rather wistfully of that tin of Twinings he'd gotten last trip up to London, but he had that squirrelled away for some special occasion; he didn't know what, just knew he'd been carried away by impulse when he'd seen it in that shop, even with the rather outrageous price tag attached. No, he'd not broach that, not this morning. Still . . .

He sighed with relief when the homely face of Gil Rawlins showed up at his office door, "another pot of coffee, Lieutenant? And I 'eld back a piece of that spice cake the Miss brought over before she 'eaded out; I've 'ad mine - you eat yours now before the guys get back or there'll be none left!"

"Coffee? Lord, yes, Gil! And I know it'll be a hell of a lot better than what I made earlier, though I've managed to just about drain the pot anyway, though I'm not sure what's left is grounds or burnt pieces of metal! Probably need to be on the lookout for a replacement if you come across one. And do you think I can get away with eating that cake without getting any whining from Goniff?"

"Per'aps not, but you're going to eat it anyway, just as I did mine; those were 'er instructions, and you know 'ow she gets!" getting a wry grin of agreement. Both of them knew the young redhead had a bit of a managerial bent to her, and while no one could precisely say she mothered Garrison and his crew, there was more than a bit of combined comrade-in-arms and big sisterly-ness in how she approached them. Well, except for Goniff, and that was a surprisingly different story.

"Reports giving you trouble, sir?" asked the sympathetic non-com.

"No more than usual, just trying to explain what happened on that last mission without really explaining what really happened; you know the guys!" And they shared a laugh. Yes, they both knew the guys, and while the missions were accomplished to the best of everyone's ability, sometimes the means were something best glossed over, never mind any of the little side jaunts and activities they sometimes got up to. Both the young officer and the non-com had made their peace with all of that, but knew better than to expect HQ or any of the desk officers up there to comprehend. Garrison had started thinking of them as 'a bunch of damned paper clip counters' and Rawlins had to agree after Garrison had related that conversation with the prim Lieutenant Michaels taking their report on the Myerhoff adventure.

They'd blown up two vital bridges, taken out a convoy of fuel tankers, and pulled out one compromised agent, coming home with assorted injuries, all of them filthy and exhausted, and the main thing the sharply dressed officer had obsessed over, "but I do not see an accounting for the two radio sets you were issued; those things cost money, Lieutenant Garrison. We cannot have you just abandoning them willy-nilly, you know!" Explaining they had been blown up, almost along with their operators, during the completion of the mission had gotten only pursed lips and an annoyed huff!

Garrison sighed and resumed what he privately considered his daily exercise in creative writing and Rawlins went to fetch fresh coffee and that small slice of cake. Garrison finished that, smiled with contentment, {"I'm glad Goniff has such a sweet tooth, with our getting the benefit from her baking for him!"} shaking his head at the seeming incongruity of the Ice Queen, the Dragon, in an apron pulling a pan of something tempting from the oven. He put the saucer to one side, and hoped the day would continue as peacefully as it had started. Alas . . .

All the way down from London, the heavyset man at the wheel muttered to himself about just how bloody stupid he was to get involved in something so obviously not his business. He'd gotten the information the way he got most information, through word of mouth. He had a complicated network of contacts, and a surprising amount of information made it his way, though even more was sorted out by his lieutenants, who after all this time had a pretty good idea what the boss would want to know about and what he'd lay into them for wasting his time with. This had actually come to his attention almost accidentally, when one of those men had made just an offhand remark, "looks like that little rat Goniff and his pals might get their due without us even entering into it, boss. Somethings in the works, seems like, that they're bound to be caught up in."

He'd asked for more details, and well, at first that had sounded just fine and had brought a mean, rather vindictive smile to Maxie's battered face; then, he kept remembering the words from that pissy-minded redhead in that hotel room, the sheer determination on her face, and he started worrying if she'd see it that way. He didn't understand why she'd taken up with someone like the little pickpocket; still, he remembered her sister had been overly fond of Newkirk, over at Maudie's pub, so maybe it shouldn't have shocked him quite as much as it had.

In fact, when he'd discussed this with Maudie to get her opinion about 'Rue's' probably reaction, she'd been surprised at the connection, but then maybe not so surprised, more amused, saying "I knew there was someone she fancied from the last time we talked, and aye, I can see that; they'd do well together, I'd think, at least from what I remember of 'im and what I know of 'er. Don't discount 'er, Maxie, about 'im or anything else; to my mind, she makes 'er sister seem the kind and forgiving type, even."

Maxie had looked at her, wanting to doubt that knowing what he did about that older sister, but somehow, remembering the look in the redhead's eye during that little 'negotiation', was reluctantly inclined to believe it to be true. And, even though he didn't hold with the military types lording it over everyone like they did, even though he had no liking for the Yanks who'd come in thinking they were king of the hill, he wasn't overly fond of those toffs who thought to have things all their own way and make a profit out of this war like they did everything else, usually at the detriment of those like his fellow East Enders either. Now, Maxie had nothing against making a quick bit of cabbage; that's what he did, after all, but outsiders coming in, that he didn't much care for, and with the added hint of German hands in the mix, well, he had family, a younger brother and a couple of cousins, an uncle, off fighting the Germans, seen the rubble and smoke and flames from those bloody bombs. He'd be damned if he gave the enemy any help with whatever mischief they were trying to get away with here on his own territory.

He groaned again, at the thought of helping that little weasel, even to this degree, but continued on the road leading toward Brandonshire where Rue's cottage was, where that 'Mansion' supposedly was, according to old Maude. That brought his mind back to the incongruity of that weasel living it up in a Mansion with his buddies, probably getting the cream off the top of the pot, while Maxie and the others back in the East End were just getting by on the spilled drops, and an offended snarl came to his face once again. The sight of the imposing manor house didn't improve his disposition any.

Hat in hand, pugilist face in place, complete with scowl, the rough looking man was admitted to the Mansion by Sergeant Major Rawlins with more than a little trepidation. "I'm not sure the Lieutenant is going to be pleased to see you 'ere; civilians aren't usually allowed in," he told Maxie Chalmers, to get a surly, "well, I'm none too pleased to be 'ere, so I guess that makes us bout even. Still, better then gettin me weasel slit by that 'ot-tempered little Miss Rue, and since she's not down at the cottage where I'd 'oped to find 'er, seems best I stop in 'ere fore everything gets out of 'and and she goes on a tear with me being 'er chew toy." That didn't explain much to the Sergeant Major, but he shrugged and stepped back.

Chalmers looked around, taking in the fine surroundings, though there were few furnishings in the big room except for a long bench against one wall and a sideboard against another, and suppressed another growl as Rawlins ushered him across the broad room.

"Mr. Chalmers to see you, sir, something about a 'Miss Rue' " showing the burly man into the neat, obviously well-used but decidedly not fancy office. Garrison looked up, recognizing the man as the one he'd surprised in his cons' hotel room awhile back, and stood to greet his visitor.

"Mr. Chalmers," he said with more than a little polite reserve. "What can I do for you?" He was more than a little apprehensive about anything this gruff East End hood had to say, wondering just what trouble his guys had gotten into this time.

"Aint what you can do for me, Lieutenant, it's maybe what I can do for you." Garrison sat back down, leaned back in his chair, motioning to the one opposite, "have a seat." Maxie started to take his coat off, but seeing as how he could see his breath as easily in here as he had outside, decided against it.

The young officer noticed, grimaced, "yes, sorry about the temperature. Wood ration hasn't made it over yet this week, and it tends to get cold in here; well, stone buildings . . . ."

"Wood, not coal?" Maxie asked in some surprise.

"No, we're not allocated coal, which is, of course, what the main boiler works on, hence the chill." Over coffee, and Maxie was more than a little surprised to see just how poor a quality of coffee it really was, him having been of the opinion that the Yanks were getting the best of whatever was available. It was probably best for the success of the meeting that Garrison hadn't broken out that Twinings. {"That's about as bad as any I've 'ad recently, and aint like 'e's giving me anything different than w'at 'e's drinking!"} seeing as how the cup was poured from the pot sitting on a hot plate off to the side. Somehow that made him feel just a little less disgruntled at this trip being necessary.

"See, I likes to mind my own business, and this just aint any of mine. But from the looks of it, it's likely to turn nasty, and I don't know as 'ow she'll believe I wasn't the cause of it in some way. And then, she decides the truce 'as been broken, and who the bloody 'ell knows what'll 'appen! She aint the reasonable type, to my way of thinking."

None of that told Garrison anything, but working with Goniff and Chief had caused him to develop some patience in letting a story work its way out at its own pace. He did have to ask, "Miss Rue?"

A glum look, "yeah, you know. Red-'ead, bout this tall," motioning with his hand, giving Garrison an impatient look, "the one in that brown dress with the slit up to 'ere and all those bloody knives and such?" motioning again. Garrison made a sound of understanding in his throat, {"yeah, should have expected that!"}

"Go on, Mr. Chalmers. You said something about a truce being broken; I'm afraid you rather have me at a disadvantage. What truce?"

It wasn't another half dozen sentences into the conversation when Garrison reached into his desk and pulled out a bottle and two glasses, thinking they'd both need some reinforcement. Chalmers was even more surprised that this whiskey was almost as bad as the coffee, just as surprised as he'd been when the young Yank officer had offered him a drink in the first place. Maybe he'd been wrong about more than a few things.

It was a long story, backfilled at several points with things Garrison would probably preferred not to know - about Goniff, about Meghada, about Chalmers himself. The raid on Chalmers' card game was certainly one of them, and he was making a note to raise holy hell with the guys, Goniff in particular, quite soon, making special note of asking them just what they needed money for so badly they'd risk something as stupid as that with someone like this, when he stopped cold, a chill of foreboding coming over him, and asked one question. "And when, precisely was that?". When Chalmers answered, he knew, then, just what they'd thought was so important as to take such a risk. {"During the courtmartial. When they said the guys had tried to buy off a witness. Shit!"}

"Told the little weasel then I'd 'ave 'im outfitted with concrete boots," Maxie snarled, then, remembering where he was, who he was talking to, pushed a highly insincere smile on his homely face, "just joking, I was, of course. Never do a thing like that, no sir. Just, we 'ave a 'istory, me n' the little - I mean, Go-niff," biting out that name through clenched teeth.

"A history?" and Chalmers admitted he'd done much the same at a game Goniff had run before the slight pickpocket had headed for the States.

"So, you figured it was your turn, that night in the hotel room, and Meghada, ah Rue, stopped it and set up a truce?"

"That's about the size of it, if you can call it that, with 'er laying it out what would 'appen if I didn't say yes, or if it all went to 'ell afterwards. Called 'im 'er 'lovie', she did, if you can believe that! Nigh on made me gag, that did, 'im sitting there with that smirk on 'is face! Still can't figure it. I mean, of anybody, 'im?? She and 'er sisters and such, supposedly they're smarter than most, street smart too, you know? Not from 'ere, acourse, though not toffs nor quality, not as we know it anyhow, though they mix in right enough when it suits their purpose; different, no doubt about that, but still, made their way among us easy enough, knew our ways, knew a lot of the locals, 'eard about more than they met. No missishness to em, though them thinking about things a bit peculiar at times, if you ask me."

Chalmers's face bore a highly disgusted look. "Been around the East End long enough to know the score, you'd think, not to let 'is fast talking and those blue eyes fool 'er. Bloody 'ell, apprenticed with Cramer, didn't 'e? That shoulda told 'er something."

Maxie was obviously letting no sleep, that long drive, now the whiskey relax him into talking perhaps more than he would have otherwise, especially when the officer poured him yet another drink, reluctantly fascinated by the monologue.

"Well, that wern't no surprise; most of the boys apprentice with someone to learn their trade, and it aint them doing the choosing, it's the masters, you can be sure a that, just like it was when I was coming along and ole Derickson took me in 'and. Well, 'ad to be sure the ones to be trained 'ad w'at it took to do the job, didn't they? Them, they looked over each crop right well afore making their choices; got their guild price upfront too, mostly from the boys' family, though some otherwise. Cramer snapped 'im up right fast, beating out a couple a others including Alfie Burke from what I remember, and strong enough to make sure no one argued with 'im about it. Cramer always did 'ave a liking for the delicate types, the ones looking younger than they mostly were; always said 'e figured they 'ad a better chance of slipping away from the Peelers, though twas known 'e 'ad other reasons as well. Know 'e made sure to get 'is full due and then some, too, you know, for teaching the finer points of the sneaky fingers and second story lay. 'E'd 'ave someone to take the risks and do the smaller stuff, taking 'is full share for the time, keeping them on a tight string, so there was no ready at 'and for them to make off on their own, no contact with the families for that time. Course, Goniff's old man, seems 'e was more than 'appy to be rid of 'im; always said the brat wasn't 'is git anyhow, and more trouble than 'e was worth; kept a firm 'and on 'is trouble and strife, making sure she didn't interfere either."

There was some grudging respect in his voice now, "must be tougher than 'e looks, though. 'Im coming up through Cramer's 'ands, well, surprised 'e made it, really; more than a few a the smaller ones didn't; just disappeared. Cramer always said they run off, but 'ave to wonder if 'e didn't just get carried away some night, or maybe one of 'is friends since 'e'd been known to be kinda open-'anded with them."

The rough man had spoken in a very matter of fact manner; that didn't stop Garrison from cringing inside, both at what he was hearing, and from knowing pretty sure just how much Goniff would NOT want him hearing any of this. Maxie shook his head in confusion, "don't know what she's seeing, what she thinks 'e is; don't make no sense, 'er taking up with 'im. If she knew 'alf of what I know, why, I could tell . . ." and he stopped, his mind finally catching up to his mouth, uneasily wondering if telling all he knew to this officer, indeed to anyone, might just fall into that 'doing harm' category that the fiery redhead indicated would break the truce and call her wrath down on the head of one Maxie Chalmers.

He shook himself abruptly and brought the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Well, none a that's to the point a why I'm 'ere, now is it? See, Lieutenant, I 'ear things, and this is w'at I 'eard this time . . ."

"Ruddy 'ell," came in a low rasp from Goniff as they trudged back from their scouting mission.

"What? Who . . ." and Actor stopped, recognizing the burly Maxie now as the man lowered himself slowly into the driver's side of that big black car. He frowned over at Goniff, "what have you been up to now??!"

"That's right! Blame me without even . . .!" Righteous indignation shifted rapidly to worry and apprehension, "I don't know what the ruddy 'ell 'e's doing 'ere, Actor! Can't be anything good."

They surged toward Rawlins as he opened the door. "Sergeant Major, that gentleman who just left. I believe we have made his acquaintance before. Might I ask what he wanted?"

Rawlins was still gazing after that black car pulling away, troubled look on his homely face, "wanted to see the Lieutenant; spent quite some time together they did, chatting. Lieutenant wants to see you after you get cleaned up," eliciting a deep groan from the slender Englishman, and a clearly muttered, "ruddy 'ell!!!"

***

"So, it seems Maxie Chalmers was afraid you'd think he was behind it all, or maybe just him knowing about it and keeping quiet, that would be enough for you to declare the truce broken. He's more than a little uncomfortable at that idea, you know, enough he came here when he couldn't find you. Seems someone named Maude sent him in this direction as an alternative?" inquiry obvious in his voice.

She nodded agreeably, "aye, well, Maudie would, certainly. She knows all involved, and would have no desire for a confrontation; she was one of my older sister's mentors, and I've always considered her sort of an aunt, certainly a Friend. I'm pleased Maxie thought it out well enough to go to her; he's cunning, has to be to have kept alive all these years, but I was some worried about just how smart he was, underneath. Maxie's not afraid of me, you understand, Craig, just cautious of pissing me off. I have a reputation for not taking that well, and being rather blunt about expressing it; a reputation I go to some lengths to perpetuate, I must admit. Saves all kinds of bother. His information was correct?"

Garrison sighed wearily, rubbing his forehead as if to ease the headache that had been nagging him for days now; he looked rather askance, but didn't protest when she moved behind him and started to massage his neck and shoulders deeply; hell, it felt too damned good to protest; he knew there was nothing personal in it, just one comrade giving some first aid to another.

"Yes, quite correct. And it's all been resolved, the morphine and penicillin back in the Allied supply chain, those in charge and we think all of those taking the orders are in custody. HQ still has a few who are trying to tie us into it, but since we were the ones who brought it to their attention and helped break up the ring, they're having a pretty rough time making anything stick. The only thing is, Goniff is acting really uncomfortable, jumpy, especially around me, and I can't seem to find a way around it."

Meghada looked down at him knowingly, "perhaps he's concerned at just how much Maxie told you? Perhaps more than just that little bit of free-enterprise cum espionage that crew was trying for?"

She watched as Garrison flushed somewhat.

"I don't listen to gossip, and anyway Chalmers and I DID have other things on our minds - him, on your temper and that truce; me, on that little bit of espionage and black marketeering of medical supplies and our intended role as the scapegoat."

She nodded, not really knowing how true that was, but accepting it at face value for now.

"Just as well. We all have our pasts, Craig; it's where we come from, and rarely can we just erase it like chalk from a chalkboard, even if we should want to. There's usually at least a shadow, some residue, always someone like Maxie waiting to pop his head up. You might want to learn a little more about the East End if you want to understand Goniff, and Maxie, and Maude, a host of others some better. My sister spent a year living with Maudie during her Internship, has continuing ties there; the man she's Bonded to is from there as well; I've spent some time there, have friends there."

"It's a different world, Craig; a hard place, where many cough up their lungs from the constant coal-tars in the air or rot from within from a bleeding gut due to the often rank foulness of the available water, where starving to death is a real possibility, where a bad winter means there's those who freeze to death, literally, even indoors. If you want a really grim picture, ask about the infant mortality, the percentage of children who perish before they're grown. That is, those who don't disappear, taken to work in the tin mines in the north, or on the ships, or the specialty brothels in the fancier districts."

"It's where the more daring of the toffs go to bully their way around, take what they want with impunity since the law won't stop them; a place where few decent doctors will step foot for any amount of money. And home to people who can be just as vicious or just as kind, just as stupid or just as bright as anywhere else you might go, though where education, with very rare exceptions, tends to lean more toward the practical and frequently not-so-law abiding as perhaps elsewhere."

"And after you do all that, once you come to terms with thinking of Goniff in connection with all that, you might start learning a little about the Indian reservations in your country, the history, the 'schools' as they are so benignly and erroneously called; learn more about the laws there, how Chief would have grown up, been treated by most who came into contact with him. Casino probably had the best of the lot of them, you know, seeing how he talks about his family with real affection, though I don't know about Actor. There's not enough of his history he's been willing to share to make any determination."

"Just remember, Craig, they each come from different backgrounds, have had their own journey that brought them here, and bear scars from those journeys; indeed, just as you made your own journey, have your own scars."

No matter how uncomfortable that admonition had made him, Garrison felt compelled to add, "Chalmers DID make it clear he is bewildered at the relationship between you and Goniff. Seems torn between being indignant, thinking you're being taken in, and confused because he thinks you too smart to BE taken in; he was rather going in circles over it. He didn't try to do anything to interfere, cause trouble, not with me, don't take me wrong; but he finds it rather incomprehensible. Rather like Major Richards without all the angst and pacing and long-words," surprised at the quick laugh that came from her.

"Yes, I mentioned that to Maxie, even asked him if his last name might be Richards; totally confused the poor man," shaking her head in amusement. She became serious again, looking at Garrison rather searchingly. "And you? Do you wonder? I suppose it's easy enough to sit back, like Kevin, and wonder at just what I could see in a man like Goniff. Of course, you could dismiss him for what you see, but still give some slight pause to wonder at what he might have become under different circumstances, if he'd been born in a different place, with different events shaping him; or . . ."

Garrison looked at her, a little disappointed in her for some reason, though he couldn't have said just why. The faint crispness in his voice reflected that. "OR?"

She quirked a slight smile at him, rather pleased at that hint of angry challenge in his voice and face, "or, you can sit back, appreciate the man he is, at the fierce and bright spirit residing within him, at the compassion and resolve, the courage and intelligence he tries to hide, with some success, the loyalty and caring he cannot hide. Was it the fires he went through that burnished all that to what he is today? Would he have been more, or perhaps less, with different elements affecting him? Who knows? I only know I see what he is, and truly like what I see, care deeply for the man he is now."

"What about you, Craig? What is more important to you, judging his possible past, who he may have been at various stages of his life, perhaps by choice, perhaps not? Or who he is, now, today; how he fits in to our lives, your, mine, the team's, and makes them, us, all better for doing so?"

And his disappointment was gone, along with his anger, and he nodded in understanding, in agreement, asking her honestly, more honestly than he would be comfortable with later, when he reviewed this conversation, "now, the question is how do we get him to understand that, that he is important to us, that we care about him, value him? That Maxie, all the other Maxie's, their opinions don't change ours?"

"Perhaps by understanding it ourselves first, accepting it, not being afraid to show it. Perhaps that will be enough. Though, that in itself isn't so easy, is it Craig? For those of us who make a point of keeping what we feel hidden inside? We all wear masks, you and I no less than him."

And his green eyes were stunned at what she seemed to see, what he'd thought he had kept so well hidden. For though he'd come to care about each of the four men in his command, respect and affection growing all the time, somehow, his resident pickpocket seemed to touch him in ways he'd never felt before, didn't understand and was extremely wary of.

Now, Meghada was suggesting he come to grips with all that he felt, or thought he might feel, not only come to grips with it but let Goniff see? No, that just wasn't feasible, could never happen, and he knew that; knew also that he would always regret that being the case, knowing he was missing something valuable and perhaps quite rare, but accepting the necessity. 

Still, he thought he just might retrieve that tin of Twinings, brew up a real pot of tea for his little pickpocket, maybe to have with that basket of pastries Meghada, 'Rue', had brought with her. He smiled to himself at the thought of that smile he knew he was going to see on that mischievious face. Yes, there were ways, maybe, without revealing more than he safely could.


End file.
